


The Igniting of Burgundy

by safarikalamari



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal, Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Canon Universe, Emotions, Enthusiastic Consent, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Gratuitous Smut, Hand Jobs, Light BDSM, Light breathplay, M/M, Porn With Plot, Royalty, Switch Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Switch Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:55:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26166724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safarikalamari/pseuds/safarikalamari
Summary: When Geralt is offered the hand of a king's "first-born", he immediately refuses.However, he doesn't pass over the invite to stay at the castle for a week and enjoy the luxuries in life for a little while.By the end, what Geralt will walk away with is worth more than all the riches in the land.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 66
Kudos: 285





	1. Chapter 1

The slicing of the head doesn’t come soon enough. 

Black blood sprays everywhere as the body comes crashing down, the head rolling to some unknown place. Geralt kicks at the twitching body, making sure the beast is as dead as it can be. He frowns at the corpse, wishing he had only come sooner to finish it off. With all the terror it had been causing, Geralt is surprised he’s the first Witcher to take it on. 

Wiping his sword off in the grass, Geralt then sheaths it and sets off to finding Roach. She had run off when the commotion started, but luckily she hasn’t gone far. Giving her a pat, Geralt climbs onto her and sets back to the town, ready to collect his pay. It had been a frantic villager, calling out for a witcher the moment he had set foot in the market, begging for his help. It was too convenient, as if spies had been watching him from the start, and so, Geralt keeps his guard as he passes through the looming gates.

He chooses the first tavern he comes upon, waiting in a corner for the one who had hired him.   
It is night when they arrive at last and something isn’t right. Geralt readies himself for the worst. 

“The king requests an audience with you,” they start, hands wringing together

“You never said anything about the king,” Geralt bites. 

He shoots up from the table, marches to the door, but a hand on his arm stops him. 

“He just wants to thank you,” the villager attempts to reassure. “Pay you much more generously than we can.”

With a grunt, Geralt shakes off the hand and goes to collect Roach from the stables. He won’t be able to make a quick getaway. Not without some unnecessary damage. When the villager lingers behind, Geralt gives them a stern glare. 

“Well?” he motions. 

He doesn’t know this town, much less the way to the king’s castle, and while he doesn’t trust even the smallest speck of dust in this village, he really doesn’t see any other option. He wants his coin.

“Right,” the villager rushes to lead the way. 

When Geralt reaches the castle gate, guards stand at attention while others watch him with a wary eye. The villager finds some excuse to leave and Geralt is left at the mercy of the king’s guards. That is until the king comes bustling into the courtyard, greeting Geralt like an old friend. The air is still frigid and Geralt keeps a hand close to his dagger.

“I must apologize for not coming myself,” the king explains as he leads Geralt to a small library. “A king’s work never stops and my papers bested me.”

The king shuts the door on his guards’ faces and Geralt has to bite back a laugh. If the king is so easy to trust him, then he is really amongst fools. The king sits at a desk, finishes signing a few documents as Geralt stands, unable to do much else. With a satisfactory nod, the king finally looks up at Geralt.

“You have done us a great service, Witcher,” the king says, hands folded on the desk in front of him. “Had you not killed the beast, who knows how long my people would have suffered.”

Geralt gives a short nod, but no more. It’s all in a day’s work and with lives saved for the day, Geralt considers it a win. Now, if only he could get his coin, then he’d be more grateful to get out of everyone’s hair.

“I would like to show you my gratitude, but you mustn’t feel obliged to accept,” the king continues on. 

With pursed lips, Geralt waits for some trick, something to tie him down to this castle. 

“I offer you the hand of my first born.”

Blinking, Geralt collects his thoughts, trying his best to be polite. Of all things, this is outlandish and stupidity rolled into one. No one would want to be with a witcher in such a way, willing or not.

“I’d rather not force them into a marriage they haven’t agreed to,” Geralt manages through clenched teeth.

The king nods with raised eyebrows. Geralt can’t imagine what the king expected him to reply with, barely managing to hold down his scowl. Old traditions were becoming tiresome and Geralt hopes in time, they’ll be well rid of. 

“Quite, yes,” the king muses. “Then please, accept the hospitality of my castle. Stay for the week and rest.”

Geralt’s immediate reaction is to refuse. He’s already wasted enough time as it is and he’d rather not get caught up in anything else. The king waits for his answer, patient and unaware of the frustration that brews under Geralt’s exterior.

Then again, it’s not often he’s treated like a guest, giving a luxury such as this. To pass up the opportunity might bring up regret later and Geralt settles into his decision. At the very least, Roach will be happy in a king’s stable. 

Geralt nods again and the king stands with a smile. 

“Come,” he motions, holding out an arm. 

Geralt finds himself walking alongside the king who chats about what seems of little importance. With any looming threats beginning to fade, Geralt drops his guard, but not by much.

The king opens a door and Geralt is greeted by the sight of a room, decorated beyond anything he’s seen in his time. Tapestries drape the walls except for one that holds large windows that look out to the ocean beyond. 

There is a fireplace on one side, two armchairs sitting in front of it with a shared table between them. Directly across from that is a four-poster bed lined with red curtains and Geralt squints as he spots a private bath quarter from behind a small door. 

“I hope this meets your expectations,” the king smiles. 

It’s more than that and Geralt almost feels guilty for occupying such a space. He’ll tarnish it in an instant, be thrown out like a wild animal. He holds his breath as he takes a few steps in and when nothing comes crashing down, Geralt tries to relax. 

“Dinner will be brought up to you,” the king says before he closes the door. 

Geralt stares at the closed door before he steps over to the bed, taking off his weapons first. The armor comes next and Geralt’s bones are tired. He thinks to lay on the bed without eating, but there is a gnawing in his stomach that he hasn’t noticed until now. Taking a seat by the fireplace, Geralt lets himself sink into the cushions as he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. His mind scurries about with plans of what’ll happen after this week, where he’s needed next. 

A knock on the door cuts his thoughts short and Geralt starts to get up before the door flies open. 

“Hello, I’ve brought you your dinner!”

Geralt stares at the man who sets a tray on the small table next to Geralt’s chair. His smile is inviting, warm, almost contradicting the blue eyes that sparkle with excitement. The mop of brown hair on his head moves with his energy supported by a strong build that floats with every step. 

“I hope this is satisfactory to your tastes,” the man beams through his scripted words. 

Looking down at the tray, Geralt finds his hunger growing at the sight of roasted meat and potatoes, a mug of ale and a small bowl of soup. He’s ready to dig in, but not with this man hovering over him. 

“I’ll draw you a bath while you eat,” the man begins to walk away with a slight hop.

“Why?” is all Geralt can ask and he frowns at the head tilt he gets in return. 

“Well, surely you’re in need of one.”

“No, I mean,” Geralt clenches a fist as he finds his words. “Why are you here?”

The man laughs a little at this. “I’m your servant for the night. The whole week if you’d like.”

“I don’t need one,” Geralt is quick to reply. 

When he had agreed to the king’s invitation, he had expected to be left alone. Not taken care of every step of the way. 

“Well, alright then,” the man shrugs, but there is a somber note on the edge of his words. 

As he starts to leave, questions rise in Geralt’s mind. He shouldn’t care, doesn’t care, and yet, his mouth still opens. 

“Wait.”

The man freezes immediately, turning on his heel to face Geralt. His face radiates curiosity and Geralt knows he’s going to regret whatever happens next. 

“What’s your name?” Geralt says after a brief pause. 

“Jaskier,” the man grins and braces his forearms on the back of the other chair, leaning forward a little. “Yours?”

“Geralt.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier repeats and a shiver runs down Geralt’s spine. 

He furrows his brows, untrusting of his mind and body clearly working against each other. He just wants to be alone yet he’s drawn into whatever this man–Jaskier–is. Come to think of it, the last decent bath he had was villages ago and he could do with bathing in something that isn’t river water. 

As if sensing Geralt’s hesitation, Jaskier slowly makes his way to the bath quarters, glancing over his shoulder. 

“Thank you,” is all Geralt can manage and with that, Jaskier hurries in, the muffled sounds of bottles and running water just reaching to where Geralt sits. 

In an attempt to distract his mind, Geralt focuses on his meal, appreciative of the hot food, the delicacies only a king would have. Geralt remembers the raw deer he had just a few days ago and he slows down his frantic eating, focusing instead on the flavors and each bite.

Once his meal is finished, Geralt is practically pounced upon by Jaskier who drags him into the bath quarters. If it wasn’t for all the suddenness, Geralt would take time to appreciate the warmth of Jaskier’s hand on his arm. 

“I can wash myself,” Geralt says when Jaskier doesn’t leave the room. 

“I know, but I want to help with your hair. You have a few bad tangles,” Jaskier replies, as if he had expected Geralt to say that. 

With a smile, Jaskier turns around, busying himself with sorting the collection of bottles. Taking this moment of privacy, Geralt undresses and sinks into the hot water, a small hum leaving him. His aching muscles stretch out and Geralt almost forgets he’s not alone until a bucket of water is poured over his head. 

Geralt thinks to tell Jaskier off, but before he can, strong hands scrub at his scalp, working soap into his hair. It’s nice, really. Jaskier is rough, but it’s a pleasant sting. When Jaskier pulls his hands back, Geralt almost protests until his hair is rinsed and the hands are back, carefully undoing the tangles in his hair. 

“Was it difficult?” Jaskier breaks the silence. 

“Was what difficult?”

“The beast. After all, you’re the only one to come back alive and with it slain as well.”

A rumble of a laugh leaves Geralt. “Whoever the king sent before was too weak. That kind of creature isn’t to be trifled with, but they’re not the most deadly creature in our world.”

“Really?” Jaskier’s voice pitches with his surprise.

Geralt shrugs, grunting a little as Jaskier pulls at a particularly nasty tangle. 

“Sorry,” Jaskier apologies, drawing his hands back. 

Not wanting to lose the feeling of Jaskier’s hands, Geralt shakes his head. “Didn’t hurt.”

Their eyes meet and they stare, almost challenging, until Jaskier breaks first.

“If you say so.”

His attention is back on Geralt’s hair and Geralt hates how his heart leaps. 

He shouldn’t be this desperate, this needy, but every little touch from Jaskier reminds him what he doesn’t have when he’s on the road. Brothels take care of some of that urge, occasionally Geralt finds himself in the company of someone for more than a day, yet it’s nothing compared to the gentle care of Jaskier, this attention that’s all for him. 

“There we are,” Jaskier pats Geralt’s shoulder. 

Getting to his feet, Jaskier grabs a towel and holds it out for Geralt, a small smile still decorating his face. 

Geralt is tempted to just snatch it away from Jaskier but he stands and accepts Jaskier’s choice of wrapping the towel around his waist. He can feel the heat that radiates off Jaskier, the slight tinge of pink to his cheeks. Geralt’s mind spins in treacherous ways and he steps out of the tub, rushes out of the bath quarters before he can let himself go any farther. 

“Will you need any more of my assistance?” Jaskier follows Geralt, standing just a breath away. 

Geralt knows he shouldn’t, not while he’s a guest of the king and when this is one of the servants. 

“I have other things I can offer,” Jaskier’s voice is low.

His hand reaches out and traces along Geralt’s chest. The touch is like fire, sending sparks as their faces inch closer. It’s too much and Geralt lets himself fall into temptation. The two meet in a heavy kiss, tongues immediately shoving into each other’s mouths, a small whine escaping from Jaskier. 

Jaskier’s breath hitches when Geralt grabs his hips, pulling them closer together. Geralt can feel a hardening cock press against his thigh and he pushes his leg up, holding back his grin as Jaskier desperately grinds down. 

Breaking the kiss, Geralt kisses Jaskier’s jaw before mouthing at his neck, shivering at the small whimper he gets as he nibbles at a pulse point. When Geralt bites down, both men shudder, their grips on each other tightening. Geralt licks and sucks until a purple bruise begins to form and he gives it a firm kiss as if to seal it there.

Backing towards the bed, Geralt lays down when he feels the bed against his legs and lets Jaskier crawl on top of him, swallowing as he allows Jaskier to take the lead. 

Jaskier mouths at Geralt’s chest before he takes one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around until it becomes a stiff nub. Geralt arches into the touch, breaths cut short as Jaskier pinches and flicks the other nipple. It’s over all too soon, but Geralt doesn’t have a chance to protest as Jaskier kisses his way down Geralt’s body and he frees Geralt from the towel around his waist. 

There is an audible gasp and Geralt holds himself back from rolling his eyes. Yes, he’s larger than most, but he’s not impossibly huge. 

Glancing down at Jaskier, Geralt’s breath hitches as Jaskier laps at the tip of his cock, eyes staring back. Their gazes remain locked as Jaskier takes more of Geralt into his mouth, occasionally dragging his mouth back up and this sends Geralt’s mind spinning. 

Propped up on his elbows, Geralt can only watch and become lost in his pleasure as Jaskier wraps his hand around the base of his cock, his mouth meeting the hand as they move opposite of each other.

It’s almost too much, but Geralt doesn’t want Jaskier to stop. His hand flies to Jaskier’s hair and he pulls a moan from Jaskier as he grips tight. Geralt can’t help his thrusting hips, the growing need and urgency, but Jaskier makes no protest and Geralt comes, seed filling Jaskier’s mouth. 

To his shock, Jaskier swallows all of it, pulling off Geralt with a sharp pop. There is a lazy grin on his face and wipes off the drool that lingers on his chin. 

“I’m glad I could be of service, Geralt,” Jaskier teases and Geralt sits up, dragging him into a passionate kiss. 

As they embrace, Geralt lets one hand search and feel, untucking Jaskier’s chemise and running his hand along Jaskier’s stomach and chest. Jaskier moans, breaks their kiss to beg against Geralt’s mouth and really, who is he to deny such pleas?

Jaskier motions for Geralt to sit back and once Geralt does, Jaskier shuffles off of him, hastily takes off his clothes. Before he rids himself of his breeches, he pulls out a vial from one of the pockets and clutches it tight in his hand. Then, he’s back on Geralt, perched on his stomach. 

“You were expecting this?” Geralt prods. 

“Never can be too sure,” Jaskier grins and pours a generous amount of oil on his fingers. 

Reaching behind himself, Jaskier starts his preparation, body shuddering as he pushes a finger inside. Geralt wants to see more, but if Jaskier has a process, he doesn’t want to interrupt that. Instead, he runs his hands up and down Jaskier’s sides, heartbeat quickening at the sighs that leave Jaskier. 

“Wish you had come by sooner,” Jaskier breathes as he fingers himself open. “I’ve been dreaming about something like this.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow and this gets a small laugh out of Jaskier that is cut off by a moan. A hand splays itself on Geralt’s chest, fingers curling as Jaskier pushes another finger in. It’s not long before Jaskier is thrusting his fingers deep inside himself, moans growing louder as he hits the right spot inside of him. 

Geralt thinks it’s the most beautiful sight in the world. He can’t help reach up to Jaskier’s face, cupping it in one hand. Jaskier smiles back, kisses Geralt’s palm before he pulls his fingers out and slides down Geralt’s body. 

Having forgotten about his own cock, Geralt shifts when Jaskier coats it in oil, but quickly matches Jaskier’s ministrations. Then, Jaskier is lowering himself down on Geralt’s cock and Geralt sees stars. Sitting up, Geralt holds Jaskier close, moving his hips up as Jaskier slides down. Moans and gasps mingle together, Jaskier’s arms thrown around Geralt’s shoulders as the pace picks up. 

Jaskier’s cock is trapped between them, smearing precome on both their stomachs and Geralt pulls back just enough so he can take hold of Jaskier’s cock. 

“Yes, fuck, like that,” Jaskier moans, slamming down on Geralt. 

With a growl, Geralt maneuvers them on the bed to where Jaskier is laying on his back, his legs wrapped tight around Geralt’s waist. Geralt wants to remember this moment forever, blue, lust-ridden eyes staring up at him, heavy moans leaving that perfect mouth when Geralt thrusts into Jaskier. His hips snap, skin slaps together, as Geralt holds himself over Jaskier, fucking him into the bed. 

Jaskier’s head lolls, moans growing louder. Geralt wants to see Jaskier come and he takes hold of Jaskier’s cock again, pumping him just as fiercely as his thrusting hips. 

With a near shout, Jaskier succumbs to his orgasm, back arching off the bed and white stripes coating his stomach and chest. The clench of Jaskier around Geralt’s cock is just enough to send him spiraling into his own release and he fills Jaskier with sharp thrusts. 

The two lay panting, foreheads pressed together as they come down from their high. When Geralt pulls out of Jaskier and lays down on the bed, he’s surprised to find Jaskier scooting close to him, wiping the two of them off with the discarded towel. 

“You are wonderful, Geralt,” Jaskier praises, kissing Geralt’s neck. 

Geralt’s not so sure, but what he does hold certainty in is that Jaskier is perfect. A string of sadness tugs at his heart knowing that in a week, he’ll have to leave this. As Jaskier lays his head on Geralt’s chest, Geralt holds him close, letting himself fade into the warmth. 

For now, he just needs to embrace this and for one night, not let his worries occupy his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt finds out there's more to Jaskier than he thought

Geralt awakes alone the next morning.

He’s not surprised, Jaskier probably has chores around the castle that start before dawn. Geralt rolls onto his back and stares at the canopy above him. Last night comes hurtling into his mind and he doesn’t stop the anticipation that rises in his chest, the hope that Jaskier will be back again. 

With all of his strength, Geralt forces himself out of bed and gets dressed, deciding he’ll see to Roach before going in search of breakfast. That is until there is a knock at his door. Geralt tries to keep his excitement down that maybe it’s Jaskier and he quickly makes his way to the door. When he’s greeted by an unfamiliar face, Geralt just stands and listens. 

The king has requested his presence at breakfast. With a nod, Geralt follows the servant who’s come to collect him, taking in the castle through the peripheral of his vision. 

The dining hall is grandiose, much too large for the few people gathered at one table. Geralt recognizes the king, assumes that it is the queen who is seated at his right hand side. There are three young girls that sit along the table as well, chattering amongst themselves and casting glances towards Geralt. 

When the king greets him, Geralt manages a small smile with a nod and takes a spot at the table. Across from him lies an empty chair and Geralt is curious to who else is coming to breakfast. 

There is the sound of running footsteps, a flash of gold before Geralt is staring at Jaskier sitting down across from him. He’s dressed in finer clothing, a gold doublet that covers his neck with a high collar. The smile on Jaskier’s face fades, color draining from his face as the king starts the introductions.

“-and our very late arrival is my eldest, Julian. Julian, this is our guest, Geralt of Rivia.”

Now this is interesting. Last night, Geralt only knew Jaskier as a servant, but here he is, the king’s son and first-born. The thoughts don’t settle well in Geralt’s stomach and eating suddenly becomes the most difficult task of the day. Jaskier has seemed to have lost his appetite as well, poking at his food and diverting his gaze away from Geralt. When at last Geralt is allowed to leave the table, he hopes talking to Roach will help clear his mind. 

He doesn’t feel betrayed, but he doesn’t like the situation at hand either. If he had known who Jaskier was, what he represented, Geralt wouldn’t have taken him to bed. It’s as if they were sneaking behind the king’s back even if he had offered marriage. Nothing feels right and Geralt buries his face into Roach’s neck the moment he finds her. 

After a few deep breaths, Geralt goes into Roach’s stall and begins brushing her down, mind clearing as he tries to think of nothing at all. 

“Hello.”

Geralt’s gaze snaps to the front of the stall and there stands Jaskier, now dressed in plainer clothing. Pursing his lips, Geralt continues brushing Roach down, waiting for Jaskier to explain himself. 

“I didn’t realize they’d invite you to breakfast,” Jaskier begins with a sigh. “I hadn’t planned on seeing you until tonight.”

“Were you going to tell me?” Geralt interrupts, sparing a glance at Jaskier. 

“Eventually,” Jaskier casts his gaze downward. “I didn’t want you to see me as the prince or the first-born or anyone important really. I’m just Jaskier and that’s all I want people to know me as.”

Geralt understands the sentiment. Some days, he wishes he could change the color of his eyes, the paleness of his hair. Sticking out is hardly a benefit and hiding is near impossible. 

“I really did enjoy last night,” Jaskier cuts through Geralt’s thoughts. “You were...amazing. The best I’ve ever had. I think we had something special.”

The heartbeat in Geralt’s ears grows louder and he stares at Roach’s back. He can’t deny the emotions, the physical rawness shared between them. He doesn’t want to lose it, but with knowing who Jaskier is now, he needs to be careful. 

Setting the brush to the side, Geralt gets Roach saddled up and finally meets Jaskier’s gaze. 

“I’m going to take her out for a ride. Will you join me?”

Jaskier’s face lights up and he nods before rushing to another part of the stable. Geralt can’t help the quirk of his mouth, the lightness in his heart. With a nudge from Roach, Geralt finishes getting her ready and leads her out to the courtyard, waiting for Jaskier. 

When Jaskier comes out with a black mare, coat shimmering in the sunlight, Geralt can practically feel Roach’s jealousy. Giving her a reassuring pat, Geralt follows behind Jaskier, the two mounting their horses once they’re far enough onto a grassy path. 

“I suppose you have many questions,” Jaskier breaks their silence as their horses walk alongside each other. “I’ll answer them the best I can.”

Mulling through his thoughts, Geralt finds himself focusing on only one thing that’s been bothering him from the start. 

“Do you agree to your father offering you up to anyone that helps the kingdom?”

Jaskier’s eyes widen before he lets out a small laugh. “Yes and no,” he admits. “I’d rather it be me than my sisters, but I do wish he wouldn’t throw it out so frivolously.”

Geralt nods, thinking back to his own rejection of the proposal. Now, a part of him wonders if the offer is still available. He shouldn’t really. After all, an arranged marriage can’t even be called a union of any kind. That’s reserved for people who have a lifetime of trust and love. Geralt is sure that will never happen for him. 

As Geralt looks at Jaskier, listens to his voice, something in his heart tightens. He wants to know more about this man, what lies under the surface. 

“What?” Jaskier asks, breaking Geralt from his staring. 

“Nothing,” Geralt quickly replies and glances at the ocean, the waves glistening in the sunlight. 

“Then tell me about yourself, Geralt,” Jaskier pokes and this brings Geralt’s attention back to Jaskier. 

“There’s not much to say. I’m a witcher.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes at this. “But surely you have hopes and dreams like anyone else. Tell me about those.”

Geralt’s mind draws a blank. All he’s known is being a witcher. There are times where he wishes he had been born into something else, could be free of the bonds, yet at the same time, Geralt can’t imagine his life any other way. Fighting monsters is in his blood and nothing will drive that out.

“Well, what are your favorite things?” Jaskier offers. 

It does little to help Geralt and he frowns as he looks down at Roach. “I like my horse.”

“Good, yes!” Jaskier lights up. “Now, what about her do you like?”

If Geralt had known he’d be expected to talk like this, he would’ve prepared himself sooner. Saying the first thing that comes to his mind isn’t comforting, but he has little choice in the matter. That is, he wants to keep talking to Jaskier, wants to hear his reactions. 

“She’s reliable. She’s a friend,” Geralt starts. “Probably the closest companion I’ve ever had.”

He can see Jaskier nod out of the corner of his eye and he dares to look further. Jaskier is so much more brilliant in the light of day, this enigmatic figure that has Geralt wrapped around his finger.

“If I did have any dreams, they’ve been long forgotten. I’m a witcher until I die and that’s all I’ll ever know.”

Geralt doesn’t understand this sudden burst of honesty and he swallows when Jaskier’s face falls a little. The harshness of his words come back to him, making him wince. 

“I think I know how you feel,” Jaskier’s voice is soft. “I know I’ve been given a blessed life, but some days I feel so trapped. The expectations, the duties I must carry out, there’s times I just want to run away.”

“Could you leave?” Geralt can’t help ask. 

Jaskier’s eyebrows furrow and he shrugs. “I don’t know.” His mouth opens and closes as if he has more to say, but the words do not come. 

“I hope...,” Geralt starts. “I hope you find your way.”

Jaskier manages a small smile at this, his eyes never straying from Geralt. “I hope you do too.”

The ride back to the castle is silent and the two men go their separate ways, Geralt free to do as he wishes and Jaskier having to attend to some royal matters. 

When evening falls, Geralt is welcomed to partake in dinner with the family and so he does, politely answering the questions of the king and queen, exchanging glances with Jaskier across the table. Jaskier’s sisters continue to whisper amongst themselves, the occasional giggle catching Geralt’s ears. It’s a pleasant haze, really, to not have children frightened of him, to be asked about other things beyond his witcher life.

Geralt still needs to take a breath when he’s finally in the safety of his room and he sits down in front of the fire, thinking over the past day. It’s been a whirlwind already and a part of him hopes he’ll have some peace and quiet soon. He hardly pays any mind to the door of his room opening, turning just as Jaskier stands next to his chair. 

“You don’t look so surprised to see me,” Jaskier teases. 

“Witchers are good at hiding their surprise.”

Jaskier laughs at this, easily seeing through Geralt’s lie and he lowers himself down to his knees, sitting back on his feet. He rests his head against Geralt’s leg, the crackling of the fire breaking the silence between them. 

Geralt tries to resist, but he reaches out, running his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. After a bit, Jaskier turns his head to look up at Geralt, the hand in his hair falling to cup his face. Geralt rubs his thumb against Jaskier’s cheek, letting himself be drawn into the gaze that strikes his heart. 

When Jaskier turns his head, he takes Geralt’s thumb into his mouth and Geralt’s breath hitches. Jaskier runs his tongue along the tip of the thumb, sucking gently before he pulls off of it. Geralt swipes his thumb across Jaskier’s mouth and he swallows as Jaskier pushes himself up, climbing into Geralt’s lap. 

The two stare into each other’s eyes and Geralt is sure he can hear Jaskier’s heartbeat tangling with his own. Their kiss is gentle, contented sighs mingling with gentle prodding tongues. Geralt wastes no time in ridding Jaskier of his upper layers, letting his hand trail down Jaskier’s body. Jaskier gasps, his breaths turning heavy as Geralt’s hand explores, rubbing at sensitive spots. Geralt mouths at Jaskier’s shoulder, nuzzles behind his ear until he gets a small whine and then he starts undoing Jaskier’s breeches. Jaskier leaves Geralt’s lap just to get the rest of his clothes off but then he’s back, sitting on Geralt’s thighs. Geralt brings Jaskier into another kiss, memorizing the taste as his hand then takes hold of Jaskier’s cock. 

Jaskier moans as Geralt pumps him slowly, runs his thumb across the head and slit. Jaskier’s pleas fill Geralt’s ears and he picks up his pace, rubbing from base to tip. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier whines, hips thrusting with Geralt’s fist. 

All Geralt can do is watch Jaskier, his mouth dropping open, head thrown back as he spills onto himself and Geralt’s hand. Geralt’s cock strains against the tightness of his own breeches, but right now, all he cares about is Jaskier. 

As Jaskier collects himself, he takes Geralt’s hand and licks off the cum, eyes never leaving Geralt for a moment. Geralt can only swallow, feel his cock twitch as Jaskier licks his hand clean. 

When Jaskier climbs off his lap, Geralt stands then and there is a devilish grin on Jaskier’s face as he pulls him to the bed. Jaskier climbs onto the bed, positioning himself so his ass is in the air, upper body braced against the sheets. Geralt is quick to rid himself of his clothes and he takes his place behind Jaskier, spreading his cheeks to better see his tight hole. 

Geralt gives the hole a tentative lick and the whimper that leaves Jaskier is pure music. Not holding back, Geralt laps at Jaskier’s hole, pushing his tongue in and stretching Jaskier open. Jaskier moans, his grip tight on the sheets as Geralt eats him out and when his legs start to shake, that’s when Geralt pulls back. 

The vial from the night before catches his eye from the nightstand and Geralt snatches it up, coating his fingers. 

“Oh, yes, oh, please,” Jaskier begs, wiggling his hips for emphasis. 

With a playful smack to Jaskier’s ass, Geralt then pushes a finger in and keens at the moan that leaves Jaskier. He works the finger in Jaskier’s hole making sure Jaskier has adjusted before he adds any more fingers.

Soon, Jaskier is taking four fingers with ease, sobs of ecstasy leaving him as his prostate is brushed against with each thrust. 

“Ready for me?” Geralt leans forward and whispers in Jaskier’s ears. 

“Always,” Jaskier nods feverishly. 

Geralt pulls out his fingers and oils up his cock before lining up with Jaskier’s hole. He pushes in smoothly, Jaskier moaning the entire way as Geralt bottoms out. Pulling out until just the tip is left in, Geralt then slams back into Jaskier, earning him a wanton cry. 

“More, harder,” Jaskier gasps.

Geralt does as Jaskier asks, slamming into him as his thrusts turn hungrier. Jaskier becomes limp in Geralt’s hold, letting Geralt fuck him as his moans and cries become muffled in the sheets. 

Jaskier comes quickly, spilling onto the bed below. With a few more hardened thrusts, Geralt finishes as well and the two are a satiated mess as they collapse on the bed. 

“Fuck, I’ll never have enough of you,” Jaskier says, facedown in a pillow. 

“You’ve only known me for two days, Jaskier. I’m sure there are better lovers than me.”

Jaskier’s head snaps up at this. “No. No one can compare to you.”

Before Geralt can retort, Jaskier has swept him up into an embrace, mouths crashing together. This feels so good, but more so than that, it feels right. Geralt is counting down the days and he thinks to ask Jaskier to come with him. Then, as exhaustion creeps up, he keeps the words down and instead falls asleep to the sound of Jaskier’s breathing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier open up to each other a little more and Geralt finds pleasure in teasing control

The morning follows the same pattern as before. 

Geralt wakes up alone, he has breakfast with the royal family and then he’s back out at the stables, confiding in Roach. She whinnies and tosses her head at Geralt’s questions, his observations, only once attempting to stomp Geralt’s foot with her hoof. It’s nice to know she listens even though he can’t understand her.

“May we touch her?”

Geralt looks down to see three pairs of wide eyes staring up at him. With how protective he is over Roach, Geralt opens his mouth to say no, but something stops him. He looks at Roach for approval and when she gives a sweeping nod of her head, Geralt steps out of the stall and holds the door open. 

The princesses rush forward, petting Roach’s nose and neck, cooing and giving her sweet compliments. Geralt holds back a smile as Roach side-eyes him for a moment, before she settles into the attention of the three girls. 

“Awfully kind of you, Geralt.”

Geralt turns to Jaskier, who has appeared out of nowhere. Geralt finds himself a little embarrassed and he gives a small shrug. 

“Thank you,” Jaskier gives Geralt a small nudge. “I know Roach is important to you.”

“She can handle it,” Geralt’s mouth quirks. “Might say she even deserves it.”

“You and your horse sound like an old married couple,” Jaskier teases. 

Geralt raises an eyebrow at this, before a small laugh leaves him. “I hope that never happens. If Roach was human, we’d have killed each other by now.”

“That bad?” Jaskier grins back. 

With a small, light shrug, Geralt glances back at Roach surrounded by the three princesses. One girl has somehow managed to climb onto Roach’s back and Geralt exchanges a look with Roach. She ducks her head a little, but her ears remain relaxed so Geralt lets her be. Or rather, Jaskier doesn’t give him a choice as he takes Geralt by the arm, leading him somewhere else. 

Geralt could protest, but he doesn’t, curious as to where Jaskier is taking him. It’s not far from the castle when they stop, climbing down a small incline to reach a sandy beach where the waves of the ocean lap at the edge. 

Jaskier sits down on a wide rock and then pats the spot next to him, looking up at Geralt with something beyond simple kindness. 

“I like to come out here and think,” Jaskier says over the sound of the waves. “When the castle becomes too much, when I just need to be alone.”

It is a picturesque scene and Geralt imagines himself meditating out on this rock. It’s a nice break from his usual forest haunts, his senses taking in the new environment. When Jaskier begins to talk again, Geralt turns to him, focusing on his voice. 

“Do you travel alone on purpose?”

The words dance around in Geralt’s mind and he’s not sure how to answer. His immediate answer is yes. He doesn’t need extra burdens and to risk another’s life is foolish. He and Roach enjoy each other’s company fine. Then, Geralt thinks about his time so far with Jaskier. The warm nights have been a need Geralt didn’t realize he had been missing. Jaskier hasn’t been just a one time affair, but then again, with the end of the week drawing nearer, Geralt can’t see him as anything else. Perhaps he doesn’t dare to. 

Geralt swallows, glancing down at his hands. “Some days, I don’t know.”

There is no reply from Jaskier, but when their sides press together, Geralt forces himself to face Jaskier. Their stare holds for a few seconds before Jaskier looks out at the ocean and that’s when Geralt finds a warm hand taking his own. He watches as their fingers interlock, a perfect fit as they settle into their silence. 

The rest of the day passes in a blur and Geralt looks forward to dinner and what follows. The king and queen are gracious hosts, treating Geralt with such respect, he thinks to put in an extra word for the other witchers of the Wolf school. Any connection they can get could help them greatly in the future. 

However, Geralt doesn’t have time for negotiations as Jaskier’s gaze from across the table beckons to him. There is danger in that stare, leaving Geralt to focus more on his wine than anything else. When at last he is able to excuse himself, Geralt opens the door to his room to find Jaskier already there and waiting. 

“How did you–?” Geralt looks back at the door and then at Jaskier. 

“I live here,” Jaskier teases. “I know all the secret passageways.”

Geralt rolls his eyes a little at this and locks the door, keeping his distance from Jaskier. As much as he wants to pull the man into his arms, he also wants to tease Jaskier tonight. When Jaskier backs away to the bed, it’s only then Geralt comes closer, but still just out of reach. Jaskier catches on quickly and his eyes flash with desire.

“How would you like me?” Jaskier purrs, opening the front of his chemise to expose more of his chest.

Geralt mulls this over, runs a thumb across his lips. He wants Jaskier any way he can have him. 

“Take off your clothes and lie on the bed.”

The grin on Jaskier’s face is positively sinful and he strips himself of his clothes, teasing his way out of them. Geralt’s cock is hard, constrained in his breeches by the time Jaskier lays himself on the bed, stretching out as if he’s laying on a cloud. 

“Touch yourself,” Geralt finds his confidence growing and Jaskier complies, tugging at his cock. 

The other hand starts to trail to his nipples, but Geralt puts a stop to that. 

“Keep that hand down. You can only touch your cock for now.”

Jaskier whines at this, but Geralt can see the fire in his eyes, the anticipation as he licks his lips. As Jaskier’s hand speeds up, his hips thrust up, soft moans leaving him. It’s a beautiful sight and Geralt wishes he could stop time just to stare at Jaskier forever. 

Instead, he stares, watches every movement until he cannot hold back any longer. Geralt kneels on the bed and Jaskier scoots over, still pumping at his cock. Geralt gently pulls his hand away, then guiding Jaskier into a new position. Geralt sits against the headboard, Jaskier sitting in front of him with his back flush against Geralt’s chest. The heat between them is electric and Geralt takes Jaskier’s cock in his hand. Jaskier lets his head fall back onto Geralt’s shoulder, soft pants hitting Geralt’s ear as he begins to stroke Jaskier’s cock. With his other hand, he pinches at one of Jaskier’s nipples and this gets him a gasping moan. Jaskier’s hands come to tangle in his hair as Geralt buries his nose into Jaskier’s neck, scenting along his skin. He smells of sweat and vanilla, the ashes of a campfire and rose petals all rolled into one. It spurs Geralt on as he picks up his pace, listens to the cries and moans of Jaskier. 

“Can you come for me?” Geralt whispers into Jaskier’s ear and with a gasp, Jaskier does as he’s asked, his grip tight on Geralt’s hair. 

Geralt growls as he bites down on Jaskier’s shoulder, grinding his hips against him. As Jaskier’s hands drop, Geralt then finds himself caught under Jaskier, his breeches coming undone. His cock is pulled free and Jaskier pumps him, crashing their mouths together. Geralt allows himself to become submissive under Jaskier’s hold, groans as Jaskier drags his hand along the length just right. 

It isn’t long until Geralt orgasms, Jaskier stroking him until it becomes uncomfortable and he has to gently slap Jaskier’s hand away. Jaskier laughs at this, settling back on Geralt’s legs. 

“What am I going to do with you?” Jaskier says, using his clean hand to run his fingers through Geralt’s hair. 

“I could ask you the same.” Geralt has so much more he wants with Jaskier. 

He sees a cottage by the sea, he sees an open road with an unknown destination. Jaskier is a stain he will never be able to wash away, nor does he want to. 

Settling on the bed, the two clean each other off, murmuring nothing but nonsensical words of affection. There is still time to figure this all out, there is no need to rush and the two hold each other close, thinking of what the future holds.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt falls easily to Jaskier's whims

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bottom!Geralt ftw

Sneaking around with Jaskier can’t really be called that. 

Guards and servants appear to turn a blind eye when Jaskier drags Geralt to and fro, as if the dust on the wall holds more interest than the two men. There are no shocked expressions when Jaskier stands a little too close to Geralt or when there are lingering touches poorly hidden behind tables and chairs. As for the king and queen, their conversations remain pleasant and they watch with interest whenever Geralt and Jaskier talk during meals. 

If any of this is planned, everyone is doing an awful job of hiding their involvement. However, Geralt finds himself not caring much, if at all. He isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, not when he has a place of comfort and someone to share it with. 

Which is how he finds himself here, sitting on a couch in the library with Jaskier’s legs thrown across his lap. Jaskier is scribbling furiously into a leather-bound journal, his tongue sticking out just a little as he catches up to Geralt’s last words. 

“And then?” Jaskier’s eyes shine with a child-like excitement.

“I stabbed it,” Geralt blinks. 

Jaskier motions with his hand, gives Geralt a look of expectation. 

“What?” Geralt frowns. 

Jaskier throws his head back before looking back at Geralt. “Details, Geralt. And you were doing so well.”

Geralt purses his lips, giving Jaskier’s thigh a squeeze as he does so. He was never one for poetry or song and trying to think of descriptions that appeal to Jaskier hurts his brain like never before. 

“I stabbed it...through the heart,” Geralt tries again. 

Jaskier sighs and writes in his journal again. “Better, but you need to work on your storytelling.”

“My storytelling is just fine,” Geralt can’t help retort and this gets him raised eyebrows. “Perhaps you just need to better your writing skills.”

Geralt holds his stare, waiting, before Jaskier’s mouth drops open just a little and the realization grows in his eyes. 

“You’re a right bastard, Geralt,” Jaskier snaps his journal shut, throwing it to the side with the quill and scoots across the couch until he’s seated on Geralt’s lap. 

“Is that so?” Geralt murmurs, his arms immediately wrapping around Jaskier. 

Jaskier hums, leaning in to place a small kiss on Geralt’s jaw. “But you make it look so good.”

When their lips meet, the men fall easily into place and Jaskier teases Geralt, tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth as he pulls away. Jaskier challenges Geralt with his stare and Geralt chases after until an abrupt clearing of the throat interrupts them. 

Both men whip their heads towards the doors, Geralt ready for the defense while Jaskier’s face turns an alarming shade of red. 

“Your Highness, Master Witcher,” a servant bows, eyes darting around to avoid looking either of them in the eye. “Dinner is ready.”

“Right, right, thank you,” Jaskier scrambles off Geralt’s lap and readjusts his rumpled doublet. 

The servant departs quickly, leaving Geralt and Jaskier in awkward silence before both break into quiet laughter. 

“Come,” Jaskier helps Geralt to his feet. “Best not to keep my family waiting.”

Before they leave the privacy of the library, Jaskier gives Geralt a final, chaste kiss, muttering about what they may get up to after dinner. Now it’s Geralt’s turn to feel a hot flush creep up his body and somehow, he manages to ignore all of Jaskier’s teasing during dinner. 

When all of the castle goes to sleep, two occupants are still awake, lost in a heated embrace. Clothing is being pulled off, discarded, and even the touch of bare skin doesn’t feel like enough. 

Jaskier pulls away from the kiss, holding Geralt back with a firm grip. Worry jumps to Geralt’s mind at first, but with the intoxicating look in Jaskier’s eyes, Geralt’s doubt is soon replaced by curiosity.

“Geralt, would you mind if we tried something different tonight?” Jaskier asks, biting his bottom lip.

With the shake of his head, Geralt is more than willing to see what Jaskier has in mind. There is plenty for them to try and he shifts as Jaskier helps him take off his breeches. Jaskier’s hands run down his thighs and Geralt sighs, head tipping back a little. How such a simple act can feel so good is beyond him and he closes his eyes as Jaskier licks up the length of his cock. 

Then, Jaskier moves to lay down on his stomach, and Geralt follows Jaskier’s guiding hands as his legs are thrown over Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier pulls at Geralt’s hips until he feels a tongue prod at his hole and Geralt tenses. 

Jaskier kisses the inside of his thigh. “Have you done this before?”

“Just been a while,” Geralt admits. 

Normally, partners don’t want to fuck him and when he does get the chance, it’s never to his liking. Now, with Jaskier, Geralt hopes this time will be different. He relaxes against the bed as Jaskier tongues his hole, a single finger pushing in every time Jaskier brings his tongue out. When Geralt starts to squirm, he can feel Jaskier’s smile against his thigh and he bites on his lip. 

“Don’t be quiet,” Jaskier encourages as he slicks up his fingers. 

He stretches Geralt at a gentle pace and it’s enough to send Geralt to an edge he’s never been to before. He moans when Jaskier’s fingers brush against his prostate, sighs when there is a loss of fingers. Then, with Jaskier entering him, Geralt’s eyes snap open and he can only see Jaskier. Jaskier who leans over him, protecting him from the horrors of the world. Jaskier who cares so much to the point where Geralt entrusts him with everything. 

The two men move together, Jaskier thrusting and Geralt moving his hips down to meet him. It’s exhilarating, neither men able to hold back as they let animalistic urges take over. Geralt comes untouched and he buries his moan into a pillow as Jaskier continues to thrust into him. The warmth that fills his hole drags out another moan from Geralt and he holds Jaskier close to him, not wanting Jaskier to pull out immediately. 

They stay together until Jaskier’s softened cock slips out from Geralt and then Geralt is guided to his feet. The two make their way to the bath quarters where Jaskier prepares a bath, the two somehow fitting in the small tub slotted together. 

They could talk, there could be more to do, but right now, Geralt and Jaskier just want to memorize the feeling of each other. Jaskier tucks his head under Geralt’s chin, a small pleasant hum leaving him. 

Geralt could fall asleep here as they are and he caresses Jaskier’s shoulder, kisses the man in his arms. The world outside is far away and for just a little while, Geralt is at peace.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A special day turns into a special night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional Tags: Blindfolds, Breathplay, Bondage

It’s easy to get lost in the castle. 

At least, that’s Geralt’s excuse as he checks different rooms searching for one man in particular. He’s not having much luck but when the gentle notes of music reach his ears, Geralt follows it with ease. Before he enters the room, Geralt stops just before the doorway and watches as Jaskier plays a lute, singing to himself as he paces in front of some large windows.

The melody sounds familiar yet there is something in the way Jaskier sings, the notes he plucks from the lute that suggest it’s from the heart, original all on its own. As Jaskier finishes the song, it’s then Geralt makes his presence known.

“How long have you been playing?”

Jaskier jumps and holds the lute closer to him, a shy smile on his face. “Since I was little. My parents insisted on music lessons.”

“It sounded wonderful,” Geralt admits. “Reminds me of home.”

“And where is that for you?”

Geralt’s mouth quirks at this, unsure if he’s ready to share this part of his life with Jaskier. Then again, they’ve shared so much more. To have secrets now almost seems silly.

“Kaer Morhen. It’s a keep by the mountains,” Geralt explains. “It’s where I trained, where I go to see my brothers.”

Jaskier tilts his head, curious, but not prodding. 

“Not actual brothers,” Geralt waves a hand. “But they’re the only family I’ve known.”

“I should like to meet these brothers of yours. Perhaps they might divulge more about your escapades,” Jaskier grins. 

Geralt can’t help but imagine the scene. The teasing of his brothers, their immediate acceptance of Jaskier, the warmth Jaskier would bring to the keep. Then, it hits Geralt square in the chest. Jaskier is slowly entering the cracks of Geralt’s life, filling in what Geralt had accepted as empty for so long.

“Geralt?”

Snapping his head up, Geralt stares into the endless blues that study him, the ones that see truth hidden within Geralt’s soul. 

“Sorry,” Geralt purses his lips. There’s more he wants to say, but his mind and mouth refuse to work together. 

Jaskier jumps to his feet, closes the gap between himself and Geralt in a few easy strides. “No need to apologize. I just want to know what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours.”

“Perhaps you already do.” The words leave Geralt’s mouth before he can stop them. 

He looks away from Jaskier, or at least he tries to, but Jaskier is quicker, stopping him with a hand on his cheek. 

“Is that so?”

Jaskier kisses Geralt’s cheek before he takes Geralt by the hand and leads him to the windowsill where Jaskier sits, patting the spot next to him. Geralt takes his place next to Jaskier and Jaskier readjusts his lute, plucking soft, slow notes. 

Geralt watches with ardent interest, the music swimming around him as Jaskier opens his mouth to sing. It’s haunting, tugging at Geralt’s heartstrings as memories mix around in his mind. He never wants this to end. To his luck, Jaskier continues from one song to the next until Geralt has lost track of time. It isn’t until the setting sun hits him at an angle that bothers his eyes that Geralt dares to look away from Jaskier. 

“We’ve been here a while, haven’t we?” Jaskier comments, getting up from the window seat. 

It takes all of Geralt’s will to not take hold of Jaskier to ask him to play another song. He’s sure Jaskier’s voice is tired and Geralt doesn’t want to lose any chance of hearing that beautiful voice sing just for him. 

“How about I sing you some lullabies tonight, hm?” Jaskier pulls Geralt from his thoughts. 

Geralt sees softness and lust all rolled into one and he can’t focus. Here he is, a mighty witcher, taken down by the simple actions of a not-so-simple man. Geralt trails after Jaskier, follows the warmth of his hand, and keeps it clear in his mind all through dinner until they can finally be in the safety of the bedroom. 

The candles Jaskier has lit smell of apples and cedar, reminding Geralt of the change of seasons, the inevitability of what is to come. His days with Jaskier are soon to end and Geralt hates the way his heart shatters. 

A hand on his face brings Geralt back and he closes his eyes, sighs as Jaskier places soft kisses on his face. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier whispers, but it’s a call that beckons Geralt and he snaps his eyes open. 

Jaskier has taken a step back and he reaches over to the bedside table, taking a piece of fabric into his hands. His eyes flicker to Geralt and there is anticipation swarming in his eyes.

“Do you trust me?”

Geralt nods. He trusts Jaskier more than anything. Jaskier could ask him to sing and Geralt would do so just to see those beautiful eyes stare at him in admiration. 

As Jaskier approaches, he unfolds the fabric in his hands and brings it up to Geralt’s eyes. 

“Is this alright?” Jaskier asks as he ties the blindfold just enough so Geralt isn’t able to see anything no matter how he moves his head.

“Yes,” Geralt manages, a pleasant sort of nervous twisting his stomach. 

With all his other senses beginning to accommodate, Geralt’s cock hardens. He follows Jaskier’s guiding hands, lets the man undress him until he is bare. There is a kiss pressed to his shoulder and Geralt turns his head, a scent of honey hitting him. Jaskier’s hand caresses his face and Geralt shivers as Jaskier helps him lay back on the bed. The bed sinks next to him and Geralt breathes as Jaskier dances his fingers along Geralt’s chest. 

“You’re stunning, you know,” Jaskier says, brushing a few strands of hair off of Geralt’s face. 

Geralt’s first instinct is to disagree, laugh it off, but he can’t. Not with the loving hands on his skin, the small intakes of breath from Jaskier. There is a mouth on his own then and Geralt melts into the kiss, reaching blindly for Jaskier. His hands manage to take hold of Jaskier’s shoulder and arm, their kiss deepening as they savor the warmth of each other. When Jaskier breaks the kiss, it’s only to move his mouth to Geralt’s neck, licking his pulse point before he nibbles at the skin, kisses and sucks until a purple bruise begins to form. Geralt rumbles in appreciation, letting his hands fall to the side as Jaskier pulls back. 

The hand on his chest traces upwards and Geralt swallows as Jaskier lets his hand rest on Geralt’s throat. When there is nothing at first, Geralt tilts his head back, hoping this is enough to encourage Jaskier on. There is a beat of silence before Jaskier wraps his hand around Geralt’s throat and he squeezes just a little. Geralt exhales, a pleasant buzz floating around his head. 

“Hands above your head,” Jaskier commands and Geralt does as he’s told. 

More fabric is tied around his wrists, locking them together. When Jaskier’s hands leave, Geralt gives an experimental tug and finds the knot secure. Where Jaskier had learned this sparks a curious thought in Geralt’s mind but he doesn’t have time to think about it as he’s rolled onto his stomach. 

Jaskier pulls him up until he’s on his knees, forearms bracing against the headboard. Understanding what Jaskier wants, Geralt adjusts so he’s able to grab onto the carved wood. Not by much, but just enough. 

“Good boy,” Jaskier praises and Geralt’s cock jumps at this. 

The prep is just as good as the night before, if not better and Geralt is tempted to ask Jaskier to just let him come now. However, the prospect of everything else is a much stronger force and he pushes his hips back, hoping to get Jaskier to move faster. 

“In a minute,” Jaskier’s voice is silk, teasing. 

Geralt ducks his head and it’s then Jaskier’s cock pushes into him. Letting his mouth drop open, Geralt eagerly takes Jaskier, a stuttered groan leaving him. As his hole adjusts to the fullness of Jaskier, Geralt shivers with the kisses Jaskier places down his spine. Jaskier’s thrusting begins slow and gentle, teasing Geralt as he enjoys the tight hole. 

“Fuck, Jaskier,” Geralt rasps and he arches into Jaskier when the man leans against him, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s waist. 

“Yes, darling?” 

It’s the first term of endearment shared between them and Geralt swallows thickly. 

“I need more,” Geralt manages, a sharp gasp cutting his words off as Jaskier shoves into him, hitting his prostate exactly. 

“You’re absolutely delicious, Geralt,” Jaskier moans, licking up Geralt’s neck. 

He bites down on Geralt’s earlobe, sucking a little, and it drives Geralt wild. His senses are overcome from Jaskier’s tender care and Geralt begs, pleads with Jaskier for his release. 

“You’ve been so good for me. Go ahead,” Jaskier says as if he’s not out of breath at all. 

Geralt shakes with his orgasm, barely able to hold himself up as Jaskier’s pace picks up. If it wasn’t for the headboard, Jaskier’s arms around his body, Geralt would be lying on the bed, letting Jaskier fuck him like a sex toy.

He gasps and moans as Jaskier hits his bruised prostate and he does his best to not move away from the sensation. When Jaskier spills into him at last, the two fall onto the bed with matching groans. Trembling hands undo his bondages and Geralt blinks as his eyes readjust to the room. 

Jaskier is a beautiful, sweaty mess smiling at him, eagerly pulling Geralt closer. Geralt finally touches Jaskier, hands trailing from his back to his arms, until he crashes their mouths together, feels a pleased hum from Jaskier. 

It’s almost enough to pique Geralt’s interest again, but instead he curls into Jaskier and the safety of his hold. 

“You are so very perfect, my dear.” 

Geralt just catches the words and he lifts his head in slight doubt. It’s only when Jaskier continues to stare at him with a small smile that Geralt’s heart slows to a steady beat. As much as he wants to deny those words, for Jaskier he can believe them just for a little while. 

He doesn’t want Jaskier seeing him any other way and Geralt allows himself to be carried away by high praises and words of love for a night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt is endlessly falling, but a few hesitations linger

Jaskier is still by his side. 

Geralt stares down at the man, his sleeping face as the sunlight graces the room. Reaching out, Geralt traces a hand down Jaskier’s face and forces himself to not draw his hand back when Jaskier’s eyes flutter open. 

Jaskier smiles as he stretches, turning his head to kiss Geralt’s hand. “Good morning,” he yawns and rolls onto his side to better face Geralt. 

He shuffles closer, tangling their legs together, placing a hand on Geralt’s chest. 

“Good morning,” Geralt replies. 

He brushes Jaskier’s cheek with his thumb, brings him in for a small kiss before they’re right back to staring at each other. How amazing it is, the change that’s come about in a few days. Geralt has never been willing to hold a gaze for long, yet with Jaskier, he could fall forever into those shades of blue.

“How lucky am I,” Jaskier breathes, snapping Geralt from his thoughts. 

Lucky. There’s something Geralt never imagined to be placed on him. He hasn’t needed it, hasn’t wanted it, yet how Jaskier says the very word breaks so much of what Geralt perceives. 

“I mean it,” Jaskier says and Geralt realizes he’s been frowning. “I don’t know what I’d be doing if you never came along.”

“Royal matters,” Geralt can’t help but quip, pleased with the small laugh he gets in return. 

“And how exciting they are,” Jaskier rolls his eyes, sarcasm dripping off his words.

Jaskier props himself up on an elbow then, cocking his head as he continues to stare down at Geralt. It becomes a silent challenge, neither man looking away until Geralt can’t take it anymore and he pulls Jaskier into a searing kiss. 

“We’re getting started early?” Jaskier teases against Geralt’s mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. 

Geralt only hums, lets his mouth trail along Jaskier’s neck. He presses a kiss below Jaskier’s ear and shivers at the soft moan he earns in return. 

“Suppose breakfast can wait,” Jaskier breathes. 

Taking Geralt by surprise, Jaskier moves them so he is on top and he spreads his hands across Geralt’s chest, leans down and nibbles just above Geralt’s collarbone. Geralt huffs, moves his hips, but Jaskier is seated high on his body, too far away for any friction. 

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” Jaskier teases, swiping a thumb across Geralt’s lips. 

“Not as greedy as you,” Geralt bites back, smacking a hand down on Jaskier’s ass. 

Jaskier gasps with small laugh and slides up until the tip of his cock is at Geralt’s mouth. He smears some precome across Geralt’s lips, leans forward to brace his hands on either side of Geralt’s head. 

“I really shouldn’t be giving you such a treat. Not after that comment.”

With a growl, Geralt grabs hold of Jaskier’s hips and laps at the tip of Jaskier’s cock, swiping along the underside. Jaskier gasps, his cock shoving into Geralt’s mouth as his head falls back, the faintest laugh leaving him. Then, Jaskier moves slow, rough, but Geralt urges him on, guiding him forward. Geralt braces his hands on Jaskier’s hips as Jaskier fucks Geralt’s mouth, lewd slurping and wanton moans filling the room. 

“Geralt, I’m close,” Jaskier warns, his thrusts stuttering as his orgasm nears. 

Moving his head with Jaskier, Geralt squeezes Jaskier’s ass and Jaskier comes, warm seed filling Geralt’s mouth. Geralt continues to swallow until Jaskier is milked dry, Jaskier barely keeping himself up when he pulls out from Geralt’s mouth. 

A few drops of cum land on Geralt’s lips and Jaskier is quick to lick them up, shoving his tongue into Geralt’s mouth to taste more of himself. When the kiss ends at last, Jaskier pulls away with a devilish grin, his fingers dancing along Geralt’s skin. 

“You’ve been such a good boy for me,” Jaskier praises. “How would you like to be rewarded?”

Geralt’s mind is a flurry of all the things he wants Jaskier to do to him, but all that comes out of Geralt is a rough, “Hm.”

Jaskier’s eyebrows jump up at this, a small laugh leaving him before he gives Geralt a quick peck on the cheek. 

“Lay on your stomach,” Jaskier begins as he crawls off of Geralt. 

Doing as he is told, Geralt relaxes into the sheets, his arms tucked up under a pillow. He turns his head to the side, watches as Jaskier grabs a vial of oil and climbs between his legs. Geralt’s heartbeat quickens as anticipation rises in his chest. There is a primal urge, this need to be so good for Jaskier. Geralt opens himself willingly, a soft breath leaving him as Jaskier lets his fingers trace along the curve of his ass. 

Oil dribbles onto Geralt’s skin and down between his cheeks where Jaskier prods gently at his entrance. Geralt lets out a soft moan, drawn into the gentle ministrations of Jaskier’s hand. It is so good, so emotional. Geralt didn’t know it could be like this and he wants Jaskier to do so much more, to make him a wreck of a witcher.

“Absolutely beautiful,” Jaskier breathes, running a hand down Geralt’s side. “If I could paint this moment, I would.”

Geralt doesn’t know how to reply so he lets his gaze travel down to Jaskier, their eyes meeting for a splendid moment. It is a stare filled with love and trust and Geralt allows himself to drift again as Jaskier prepares him. 

When he is three fingers full, Geralt follows Jaskier’s lead, braces himself on his forearms and knees. However, Jaskier doesn’t remove his fingers and instead reaches for Geralt’s cock, stroking it as he thrusts his fingers into Geralt. 

Geralt shakes, his senses pleasantly overwhelmed as Jaskier takes care of him, whispers poetry and song into his skin. It doesn’t take long for Geralt to reach his release, a groan leaving him as Jaskier carries him through. The two sit up, a kiss shared before they can’t help but laugh. 

“We’ve made quite the mess, haven’t we?” Jaskier gets off of the bed first and Geralt follows. “The poor servants.”

“I’ll wash them,” Geralt says automatically. 

“No, no, leave it for me,” Jaskier waves. “What kind of prince would I be if I didn’t help out with chores once in a while?”

Geralt furrows his brows, remembers all the pompous brats he’s met before, but decides to keep those thoughts to himself. Jaskier is a rare gem and Geralt doesn’t want to tarnish him.

Soon, the two are bathing, Jaskier talking about nothing and everything as Geralt listens intently. He melts easily into the lingering scents of chamomile and rose, takes one of Jaskier’s hands into his own and helps wash him as Jaskier has done for Geralt time and time again. The water is cold by the time they agree to dress, but it’s not without reluctance that they finally leave the comfort of the bedroom.

When Geralt and Jaskier arrive for breakfast, the plates are already being cleared, the rest of the royal family nowhere to be seen. Jaskier only shrugs at this before ushering Geralt into the kitchen, loudly announcing their arrival. The servants don’t bat an eye as Jaskier sits the two of them down at a long wooden table, shoving various fruits and drink in front of Geralt. Before Geralt can say anything, Jaskier is chatting with one of the cooks and soon there are two plates of a hearty breakfast sitting before them. 

Geralt mulls around with his observations, how Jaskier floats around, his bonds strong with every servant who crosses his path. It’s refreshing, not only to see well-treated servants, but a prince who makes them laugh, creates a room that is warm and inviting. Geralt can’t help how he gets caught up in the atmosphere, a small smile gracing his face. 

“Oh, you know all about those, don’t you, Geralt?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, Geralt furrows his brows when Jaskier and one of the servants are looking at him expectantly. 

“Which?” Geralt apologizes with the shake of his head. 

“Hellhounds,” Jaskier supplies. “Jamisy’s grandmother apparently saw a pack in the mountains near Posada.”

Geralt quirks a brow. Jaskier and the servant are unbothered in the slightest as they continue their conversation and Geralt laughs in the form of a huff through his nose. If that is true, that certainly isn’t a good sign. He’ll have his work cut out for him when he and Jaskier travel that way.

Everything comes to a screeching halt and Geralt stares at the grains in the wood. 

He and Jaskier.

Jaskier and him. 

The words circle around in his mind along with images of campfires filled with soft lute music, long days on the road with someone who never appears bored. 

Not only that, but there is love. Love, comfort, trust, things Geralt thought he would never be allowed in his lifetime. 

He should ask. He can, but Geralt doesn’t. As sure as he is about Jaskier, there is still that shred of doubt at the back of his mind. That at the end of it all, Jaskier won’t want to leave such a luxurious life for one that has no guarantee of seeing the next day. Witchers aren’t supposed to have happy endings and Geralt doesn’t want such a burden thrust upon Jaskier. It begins to eat at him, dragging Geralt away until he feels a warm hand take his own.

As the darkness fades, Geralt does his best to focus on the moment, the smile on Jaskier’s face. Right now, he can be confident in one thing. He has had Jaskier for the past blessed week and that is more than any witcher could say.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt is not ready to leave. At least not empty-handed

Geralt has been dreading this day. 

It’s come too fast and now, Geralt has a panic rising in his chest. He can’t leave Jaskier, not so soon. Breakfast is painful, lunch is somehow worse and Geralt hides in Roach’s stall for the rest of the day. 

Jaskier finds him, the two unsure of where to start as they pet Roach. Perhaps words aren’t needed. They both knew this day had to come. Their time together was meant to be fleeting, not something written in stone. 

Yet, Geralt can’t find himself to accept this awful truth and he pulls Jaskier into a hug, ignores the breaking of his heart as Jaskier cries into his shoulder. Before they can say anything, they are summoned to dinner and their masks are put on for a little while longer. 

By the time they manage to escape to Geralt’s room, emotions are everywhere and they fall into their embrace.

Tonight, they don’t want to rush. 

As they stand, holding onto each other, Geralt reaches up and cards his hand through Jaskier’s hair before cupping his cheek. His heart strains as Jaskier closes his eyes, presses into the touch as if it is their last moment alive. 

When Jaskier turns his head just so, kisses Geralt’s palm, Geralt’s breath hitches and he tugs Jaskier closer. Their faces are just a whisper apart, but they do not kiss right away. They linger in each other’s gaze, seeing more than anyone has ever been allowed. 

Geralt leans in, his heart racing, and he is nervous, as if this is their first time embracing. A gentle mouth presses against his own, the scent of honey filling his nose. Jaskier is a warm sunrise, a field of swaying wildflowers, and Geralt falls easily. 

Tongues begin to search, tangle, as Geralt hugs Jaskier around the waist while Jaskier’s arms are thrown about his shoulders. They could stay this way forever and Geralt would be content. It’s Jaskier who breaks the kiss first, trailing his mouth along Geralt’s jaw before he presses a chaste kiss underneath Geralt’s ear. There is a rumble in Geralt’s chest and he tilts his head to the side, allowing Jaskier access to his neck. 

Geralt barely holds himself up as Jaskier nips and sucks along his pulse point, teeth grazing along the skin. He is sure there is a prominent bruise when Jaskier’s fingers dance along a certain spot, pride coursing through Geralt’s body. 

He is Jaskier’s and Jaskier is his. 

They crash their mouths together again, Jaskier’s hands trailing down Geralt’s chest and to the hem of his shirt. When Jaskier tugs, Geralt rids himself of the clothing easily and doesn’t shrink under Jaskier’s stare. 

Geralt keens when Jaskier kisses along his collarbone, practiced fingers rub and pinch his nipples. A stuttered gasp leaves him as Jaskier’s free hand takes hold of his ass, holding them close so there is no space at all between them. 

Their clothed cocks grind together, moans and gasps mixing in the room. Suddenly, Jaskier has too much on and Geralt works on ridding Jaskier of his clothes. He is careful with taking each article off, his mind wandering into how expensive it all must be, but when Jaskier’s chest is bare, Geralt is back to their love making. 

He falls to his knees, quickly unlaces Jaskier’s breeches and pulls them down to his knees, freeing his cock from its confines. Running his hands up Jaskier’s thighs, Geralt kisses at the base of Jaskier’s cock, his tongue poking out just a little. The moan he receives is music and Geralt wants to hear more. He licks up the length of Jaskier’s cock, teases at the tip before he takes Jaskier into his mouth. 

“Fuck, Geralt,” Jaskier cries, his hands tangling in Geralt’s hair. 

He tugs just enough to send the pleasure shooting to Geralt’s cock, but he can ignore his own needs for now. Jaskier is beautiful, caving in above him, body shaking as Geralt swallows him down. Seeing Jaskier come apart, there is no better sight and Geralt continues to take Jaskier until his nose is pressed against wiry hair, the tightness in his throat creating a haze in his mind. 

“Darling, I might not last if you keep doing this,” Jaskier gasps, his hips wiggling against the hold Geralt has on them. 

Slow to drag Jaskier out, Geralt lets the head sit in his mouth and he meets Jaskier’s heavy gaze. To be on his knees for Jaskier is the greatest gift of all, but there’s so much more that awaits them. 

With a final lick to Jaskier’s cock, Geralt gets to his feet, helps Jaskier out of his breeches before Jaskier is attacking his own trousers. He tears them off and then leads Geralt to the bed, pushing him down with a magnificent ferocity. Geralt can only watch as Jaskier crawls on top of him, the look in his eyes almost terrifying, as if he intends to swallow Geralt whole. Sitting up, Geralt meets Jaskier in a heated kiss and then finds a bottle of oil being thrust into his hands. 

With a nod from Jaskier, Geralt coats his fingers, teasing Jaskier as his slick fingers trace along Jaskier’s entrance. 

“Please,” Jaskier begs, his hands gripping tight to Geralt’s shoulders. “I need you, Geralt.”

Geralt is weak to Jaskier’s pleas and he pushes a finger in, a sigh leaving him as Jaskier moans. Jaskier tries to push down, but Geralt holds him by his hip, a warning glance before he presses in further. Understanding the instructions, Jaskier doesn’t push against Geralt’s fingers and allows Geralt to stretch him as he wants. 

It’s a slow pace, intentional, as Geralt adds his fingers at a snail’s pace. Jaskier’s head lolls about, moans and desperate begging falling from that lovely mouth and Geralt wants nothing more than to shove himself into Jaskier. 

However, this sight is hard to leave and Geralt finally shoves three fingers in sharply, groaning as Jaskier throws his head back with a shout. 

“Geralt, Geralt, I can’t wait anymore,” Jaskier sobs, rutting his cock against Geralt’s. 

With a kiss to Jaskier’s cheek, Geralt then slicks up his cock and guides Jaskier down onto it. The two can’t help their moans, Jaskier’s impatience taking over as he shoves himself to the hilt. 

Geralt curses, squeezing his balls to keep himself from coming so soon and he thinks he’ll last until Jaskier begins to move on his cock. 

With the last of his resolve crumbling, Geralt holds Jaskier close to him, burying his face in the crook of Jaskier’s neck. Nimble fingers tangle into his hair and whispered words of endearment come with every thrust and shove. 

“Gods above,” Jaskier moans as he and Geralt move together. “You are perfect, you are everything, Geralt.”

Right now, Geralt can believe every word that falls out of Jaskier’s mouth. He flips them so Jaskier’s back in on the bed, legs wrapped tight around Geralt’s waist. Geralt tangles their hands together, lets his hair drape around their faces, as if it is a curtain to keep the darkness at bay. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt chokes out as their sex becomes more heated, needy. “Fuck, I need all of you, my love.”

Jaskier’s eyes widen, his mouth falls open and it’s then Jaskier comes with a stuttered gasp, white stripes coating his stomach and chest. His back arches off the bed, his hole clenches around Geralt’s cock and Geralt is succumbing to his own orgasm, his moan buried in the passionate kiss he lays on Jaskier’s mouth. 

They stay latched together, unwilling to break their embrace. When they finally do part, they clean each other off with tender touches, soft kisses, before they settle onto the bed.

Jaskier rests his head on Geralt’s chest as Geralt throws an arm around Jaskier’s shoulders, a kiss pressed to Jaskier’s forehead to remember all that has happened. Geralt’s stomach twists and his heart begins to ache.

This can’t be it. Geralt refuses to let it be. To imagine his days without Jaskier is a nightmare and he doesn’t want that to happen. Even if Jaskier says no, Geralt has to say it, has to say the one wish that sits heavily on his mind.

“Come with me,” Geralt says. 

Jaskier’s head lifts and he stares at Geralt with furrowed brows. “What?”

“Come with me,” Geralt repeats, his voice a little louder this time. 

His resolution is growing by the second and he hopes and prayers for the answer he wants to hear. 

“Yes, yes, a million times yes!” 

Jaskier’s laughter fills his ears and arms wrap tight around him as Geralt is practically lifted into a seated position. He doesn’t hold back his smile, burying his face in the crook of Jaskier’s neck. His heart is so full, but it’s then he feels the wetness on his face. Leaning back, Geralt is quick to wipe Jaskier’s tears away and he worries something is wrong. 

“Thank you, Geralt,” Jaskier smiles through his tears, holding Geralt’s face in his hands. 

Jaskier pulls him into a deep kiss and Geralt thinks of nothing beyond the man in his arms. How foolish of him to think it would end, that it could ever end. When their embrace ends, Jaskier stares at Geralt with an adoration like no else. Geralt’s heart soars, the darkness on his mind fades and he allows himself to feel something he has hidden for so long. Geralt feels utterly loved and he will climb mountains if it shows Jaskier what stirs within his own soul. 

They are more than lovers, more than the world will take them to be, but they do not need to be understood. 

Geralt and Jaskier have each other and they will burn bright for as long as the universe lets them.

**Author's Note:**

> listen sometimes you get that brain worm and you just....gotta.....
> 
> [Blue Hellsite](http://fromkaermorhentolettenhove.tumblr.com)


End file.
